Princess Merril
by SherlockWatsoned
Summary: "This ends now."   It's Merril Portman's sixth birthday, but her parents are the ones getting a surprise.   Based on the amazing CP Coulter's "Dalton".


_A/N: A oneshot about Merril Portman, a transwoman from CP Coulter's amazing fic, Dalton, which you should read. I make up things a lot, and a couple of small details might not fit exactly with canon . Also, it feels really weird referring to Merril as "he". I keep writing "she" and then I have to correct it (So there may be some slip-ups)._

* * *

><p>"Why don't you play with Grammy and Poppy's present?" Erica Portman sighed, no longer able to contain her annoyance.<p>

Recognizing the signs of his mother's waning patience, Merril slid out of his seat. Erica had been working on the crossword, but whenever her son sat next to her, staring at the page intently, she found it impossible to concentrate.

Merril skipped upstairs to his bedroom, and tossed open the door. It had been his birthday two days before, but the plastic truck his grandparents had sent from their home in Wisconsin still remained unopened, the box tossed on a chair. He grudgingly took it down, and dragged it to the computer room.

"Daddy?"

"Uh-huh," Mark Portman replied, his face appearing ghostly in the glow from his moniter.

"I can't open it." He held up the box, which was covered in enthusiastic slogans (_Real tires! That turn! Unleash Worlds of Imagination! Be a Firefighter!_).

Mark turned slowly, a "You know daddy hates it when you interrupt his work," already beginning to form, when he glanced at the package his son was waving in his face. He instantly brightened.

"A truck! You didn't tell me you had a truck, bud!" Mark's smile was threatening to split his face in half.

Merril just shrugged, handing the box to his father. Mark went to get scissors, cradling the package in his arm. When he returned, he was holding a bright red plastic truck. He handed the toy to Merril, then patted him on the head.

"Have fun!"

Mark stood in the doorway, smiling, as the little boy dragged the truck to his room.

* * *

><p>Merril sat down in front of the truck. He pushed it a bit. Then just sat and stared at it. He didn't understand what was supposed to be fun about a <em>truck<em>. Suddenly, he had an idea. Reaching under his bed, Merril found the present his aunt had given him.

* * *

><p>Aunt Angela and Uncle Steven had been staying at the Portmans' that week. During dinner, one day before his birthday, Angela asked Merril what he wanted to be when he grew up.<p>

Merril considered the question carefully. He was, after all, starting first grade next year. He figured it was time to start thinking about these things.

"A princess," Merril replied confidently.

Mark went red.

"You mean a prince," Erica hastily corrected.

"No! A princess. I want to live in a castle, and wear fancy dresses, and a crown." He couldn't think of anything he wanted more.

A roaring silence enveloped the table.

Mark quickly excused himself. Erica looked furious. Steven looked worriedly around the table, unconsciously stroking his mustache. Angela, on the other hand, was watching Merril carefully.

"I... you... he..." Erica stumbled for some way to gloss over her son's outburst.

Angela gently placed her hand on her sister-in-law's.

"Merril, would you like to help me wash the dishes?" his aunt asked carefully.

The almost-six-year-old, who was completely confused by how his parents were acting, nodded, and left for the kitchen with his aunt.

The next night, Angela pulled her nephew aside before his birthday dinner.

She crouched down so that she was level with his ear, and whispered, "I wanted to give you your present early."

She then pressed a yellow gift-bag in his hands. Looking surprised, Merril reached into the bag, and pulled something out.

He grinned.

It was a princess doll. She had brown yarn hair, a green dress, purple shoes, and best of all, a gold crown.

"Don't tell your parents, alright? Let's keep her a secret."

Merril hugged his aunt tightly, whispering a thank-you into her dress.

"What're you going to name her?"

"Merril," Merril stated, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

* * *

><p>Princess Merril was riding in the fire-truck. There was a forest fire, and she had to put it out and save her kingdom.<p>

After pushing Princess Merril back and forth in the toy truck for a while, Merril lost interest. He picked up his doll, and wandered into the hallway.

His parents' door was open, and he stepped inside.

He jumped onto the King-sized bed, and observed his surroundings. _When I'm a princess_, he thought, _my room will be exactly like this._He loved the burgundy walls, which were left over from the last people to live in the house. His father hated the color, but his mother thought it was "tasteful" and "elegant".

Merril slid off the bed, and ran to the walk-in closet. He stepped inside, and something green caught his eye. He tugged on the bit of fabric, and was delighted when an entire dress came tumbling down. It was long and frothy, a bright spring green. Giggling, he pulled it over his head. He checked his reflection in the closet-door mirror. The dress was far too large, and it pooled around his feet. Now all he needed was... _perfect!_A pair of deep purple pumps caught his eye. Now he could look just like Princess Merril.

He brought the shoes over to the mirror. Then he looked at them a bit. Merril realized he had no idea how to put them on. He finally decided to lay them side-by-side on the floor. Then, he sat down behind them, and stuck his feet in the shoes. Merril proceeded to grab hold of the door handle, and hoist himself up. He teetered, and fell, crashing into the closet door.

But he would not be deterred. He determinedly tried again, this time succeeding in balancing in the enormous pumps. He proudly wobbled about, and had just begun to consider the problem of a crown, when...

"Merril, honey? What's that noise? And what're you doing in my room?"

Erica stepped into the room.

Merril glanced up at her, in too-big dress and shoes, a guilty look on his face.

Erica did not yell. She did not throw a fit. She simply looked at Merril with narrowed eyes, and said, her voice strained and quiet, "Take that off. Do not come back in this room again."

Merril quickly complied, hurriedly tossed off the dress and stumbled out of the room, throwing worried looks over her shoulder.

Erica waited until Merril had left, then shut the door quietly. She sat down on the bed, her head in her hands, and began to cry.

Mark saw Merril run out of his room, and knew something wasn't right. He walked in to see his wife in tears. He sat down next to her, and put his arm around her shoulder.

Erica sobbed against him.

"How... c-can he d-do this... to us?"

Mark continued to hold her tightly, not saying a word.

"I-I'm losing m-m-my... son," she whispered into his shoulder. There was so much hurt in her words. She felt betrayed, lost, terrified.

Mark made a vow that day. He would never let Merril do this to them. He would never let their child scare Erica like this again. He hated to see her like this, hated how he felt the same way.

He finally spoke.

"This ends now."


End file.
